


Lucky (To Have These Curves)

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Dominance/submission, Dominant Emma Whitmore, Explicit Consent, F/F, Female Reader, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Praise Kink, Rittenhouse!Reader, Submissive Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: When Emma Whitmore asks you to go retrieve some files from her office for her, you can't help but look around a little.Emma finds out. Discipline follows.





	Lucky (To Have These Curves)

This meeting truly could not possibly get more boring. Keynes has been talking about how he is planning on crushing those who oppose him for...you check your watch...eighty minutes now. Carol Preston’s smile faded about half an hour ago, and you're pretty sure Emma Whitmore is playing Minesweeper on her laptop to your right. 

“Emma, the files on our current members?” Keynes suddenly asks. Emma looks down at the paperwork to her side and curses quietly.

“They're in my office,” she replies. Keynes rolls his eyes. 

“Go get them, then.” She scoffs, motioning at the clock on the wall.

“That would make this last even longer since I'm up next. The presentation on new landing techniques, remember?” She says it as if she's speaking to a toddler. To be fair, you think that's not far from reality.

“I could go get them for you?” The moment you've suggested it, you freeze. You've only been here a month, and you were nearly denied a position on the board as it is. It's only because Jessica put in a good word for you that Carol eventually reluctantly agreed. Now you've spoken without being prompted. Carol gets up from her seat. She's surely going to kill you.

“I'd appreciate that,” Emma comments before Carol can say anything. “Thank you.” Smiling, she pulls her badge off of her blazer and hands it over to you. “They should be on my desk.” You nod quickly and stand up, hurrying out of the conference room. 

 

Emma's office is on the opposite side of the building, up on the top floor where all of the apartments are located. As far as you know, she's the only one who chose to have hers up here. Everyone else's offices are scattered throughout the lower levels; wherever there's room, there's an office. You share yours with two other new recruits. No-one has office spaces to themselves; apparently, even Nicholas was placed in Carol's quarters. No-one, except Emma. 

You walk up to the door marked  _ Ms E.E. Whitmore, PhD _ and hold the badge up to the electromagnetic lock, which flashes green. A soft click tells you you have ten seconds to open it before the security system automatically re-locks it again. Pushing against the matte glass and wood, you enter the office. You've only been here once before, when her printing job had accidentally been sent to the one in your office, but you barely had the time or the courage to look around. Now, with no-one else here, you can finally take in your surroundings. The entire wall behind her desk is made out of full-length windows, offering a view of the San Francisco skyline that takes your breath away. Sleek lines form the sparse pieces of furniture in the room, with small gold accents emphasizing the fact that this is still a woman's office. 

Spotting the files on Emma's desk, you grab them quickly. You really should be getting back to the meeting now, before they start wondering what's taking you so long, but you can't help but notice the door to the side that's just slightly ajar. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to it and glance into the adjacent room - Emma's living quarters. You shouldn't be in here; you really shouldn't. Still, you can't help but notice the chunky sweater draped over a chair, the empty wine glass on the table and the bowl of nectarines on the countertop. It's...surprisingly homely. 

 

You hurry back to the meeting, handing Emma her files and her ID badge silently while Keynes finishes yet another rant.

“Thank you,” she whispers as you sit down, leaning towards you so she can make herself audible. Her left hand comes to rest upon your right thigh as she does so. You expect her to retract it the moment she's upright again. She doesn't. It isn't until she's getting up to present her research that she breaks the contact between the warmth of her palm and the smooth fabric of your skirt.

 

Once the meeting is over, everyone returns to their respective offices. Carol has you running errands for her the rest of the afternoon, well into the early evening. As the moon illuminates the streets outside, you finally finish your last task. You shut down your computer when your pager goes off.

_ My office. Now.  _

You check the sender.

_ WHITMORE-EMMA _

Oh dear.

 

Approaching Emma's door, you raise your hand and knock on it twice. Within seconds you hear the clicking of heels on the marble floor, and the door opens. Emma nods at you and steps to the side so you can enter, locking the door behind you.

“You paged me?” you ask her, nervously smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in your blouse.

“I did,” she confirms, stepping closer to you. “Did you know that my office has security cameras?”

“I…” you stammer. “No. I didn't.”

“You were snooping while you got my files for me.” There's no point in denying it, so you nod your head, staring at your feet. “You deserve to be reprimanded for that.” You nod again. You're going to lose your job, aren't you? All because you couldn't just do as you were told, you chastise yourself. “So bend over the desk.” What? You stare at her as your brain tries to comprehend what she's telling you to do while something inside of you stirs. Emma immediately drops the stern look and steps closer to you, quietly murmuring: “If I've misread the signals, just tell me. You can leave and we'll forget this ever happened.”

“No!” you call out, surprising yourself with the volume of your exclamation. “I mean…” You laugh nervously. “You haven't misread anything.” 

“Good. If I do, you can always tell me. Now bend...over...the...desk.” 

 

Emma's desk is minimalist but sturdy, and just the right height for you to rest your upper body on it, your head coming to rest on your arms. Emma chuckles behind you. You can't see her, just the San Francisco skyline. 

“Look at you,” she comments, running a hand along the curve of your hip. “So naughty before, but such an obedient one now. So eager to please.”

“Yes,” you reply. Her hand comes down, lightly swatting your fabric-covered skin.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma'am.” She massages her earlier target roughly.

“Spread your legs.” You can feel a rush of heat begin to pool at your centre as you do as you're told, though restricted by your skirt. “Good girl,” she praises you. You can feel her push the fabric up past your hips, and you immediately spread your legs further. “There you go,” Emma murmurs. “Now then. Tell me, what do you think I should do with you?” You can think of only one response.

“Whatever you want, ma'am.” 

“Good answer.” Without warning she pulls your underwear down your legs, guiding you to step out of them and leaving you exposed. “So gorgeous. I'm going to have so much fun with you,” she decides. “But first…” Somehow she manages to end up sitting in front of your face. “Put that pretty mouth of yours to good use.”

 

She’s tangy and slightly bitter and  _ oh so wet _ as you taste her, trying to figure out what makes her squirm. You’d almost forget your own name, if it weren’t for the iterations of it falling from her lips, soothing and praising. You could do this for hours and not get tired of it.

But then she suddenly yelps, actually  _ yelps _ , and her fingers are digging into your shoulders as her thighs tremble and shake, and it hurts just a little but you don’t stop; couldn’t possibly stop unless she tells you to. 

“Fuck!” she exclaims, pushing herself backwards and away from your face. She half-stumbles off of the desk and pulls you up by the collar of your shirt, kissing her own wetness off of your lips. You whine quietly, and she chuckles, her other hand palming your breasts. “Talented little thing, you are. Now let’s see how loud you can get.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written xReader or even 2nd person POV before, so, yeah. *hides behind the couch*


End file.
